


I'll crawl home to her

by BlueRobinWrites



Series: The Music Made Me Do It [11]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Basically...a dream come true, F/M, Fluff, Inspired by Music, Love, Post Troubled Blood, Slow dances, Wedding, Work Song by Hozier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:22:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26768710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueRobinWrites/pseuds/BlueRobinWrites
Summary: Strike and Robin attend Vanessa and Ollie's wedding.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Series: The Music Made Me Do It [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1668514
Comments: 58
Kudos: 109





	I'll crawl home to her

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kenzthepea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzthepea/gifts).



> While sprinting this evening in the Strike Discord server, I finished a work I'd started yesterday and decided to ask for prompts just because I wanted to keep writing...@kenzthepea gave me this prompt, "Slow dancing at Vanessa’s wedding! So it’ll be their first time dancing together"
> 
> I know we've had slow dancing fics before...But...I think you'll all enjoy this one.

Standing at the bar Cormoran watched as Robin grinned at Vanessa and Ollie on the dance floor. They were having a dance off and laughing at each other's horrible dance moves. Ollie threw dice and Vanessa served pizza, and people on the sidelines were shouting names of what he assumed were even more terrible moves for inspiration. 

As he watched the clearly happy couple out on the floor, he couldn’t help but think that the last wedding he’d been to had been Robin’s. And the joy that was clearly evident here, in this room filled with laughing people, had been completely absent at that affair. 

Of course at the time, he’d been miserable, watching the woman he now understood he’d been in love with, dancing with another man. And he’d known before then, that that man would never be worthy of her. 

But he’d also believed that about himself back then. 

Just as he turned to ask her if she needed another glass of wine the music changed. A slow song, with a slow thumping bass line and what sounded like intermittent hand claps was beginning. He glanced at Robin, who’s eyes were closed as she very subtly swayed to the music and reaching over he took her nearly empty wine glass from her hand, set it on the bar, and as her eyes fluttered open, leaned down to her ear to whisper, “Dance with me?”

She drew back, shocked. “But…” she began. 

“I’m fairly sure I can still manage a gentle sway,” he leaned closer, whispering again, “But you may want to be prepared to catch me. Just in case.” He winked at her as he slid his hand down her arm, catching her hand with his and gently tugged her toward the dance floor. 

As they reached the dance floor, what was obviously the chorus of the song began. Voices lifted in a beautiful harmony. 

_ When my time comes around _

_ Lay me gently in the cold dark earth _

_ No grave can hold my body down _

_ I'll crawl home to her _

He pulled Robin into his arms, folding her hand into his, and holding it over his heart, as he rested his chin on her hair. The scent of her perfume rose, bringing with it a flood of memories of times he’d smelled it in the last six months. 

In her hair.

On her neck.

Nuzzling the valley between her breasts. 

Kissing her palm as she passed him in the office, or handed him a mug of tea. 

The feel of her, in this moment, her body shifting gently against his, her thighs brushing against his, her soft fingers now wrapped around his hand and dipping into his suit jacket to stroke his chest softly through his shirt, reminded him of holding her at her own wedding, on the steps. Her hair had smelled of roses and her eyes had shone with tears. 

And he’d been wishing he had the courage to ask her to leave with him. 

As hard as it was to think of that day, he knew he’d made the right decision then. 

He hadn’t been ready for her then. 

He hadn’t been prepared for the depth of feeling he’d discovered in the last six months with her. 

The absolute certainty that the soul inhabiting the body pressed so softly against his had been created for him to find. 

That she’d been the saving of not only his floundering business, but also himself.

His best mate. 

His soul's mate. 

After losing Joan, he’d realized that those final conversations he’d had with her, telling her what she’d meant to him, done for him, those were things he wanted to be sure he’d had a chance to say to Ted. So he’d begun visiting Cornwall more often, taking time to sit in The Victory, sipping pints and eating fish and chips. 

Ted always asked after Robin, if she hadn’t made the journey with him, especially after he’d been seated next to her at Christmas dinner this past Christmas. He never failed to ask when his nephew was going to marry “that sweet girl” of his. And Cormoran always smiled and said, “Eventually.”

Ted had taken to going out on his boat, Jowanet, once a week, if not more, which worried Lucy, because he was alone. But Cormoran understood it and didn’t say anything, though he did worry.

As he tried to shove that thought aside, he lowered his lips to Robin’s hair, and once again inhaled the scent of gardenias and her. Her body, so warm against him, was wrapped in a black column, her hair pinned on one side but flowing down her back, the ends tickling the tips of his fingers, urging him to touch it, to comb his fingers through it, just to feel the silkiness he’d looked at and wondered about for so long. 

Just to prove he could. 

To remind himself that he was allowed to now.

Holding Robin now, in this moment, he realized that Ted wasn’t going out onto the boat for fun. 

Or to relax.

But because it was the only way he could be with Joan. 

Out on the sea he could talk to his beloved.

Feel her presence.

In the boat he’d named for her.

In the sea which carried her.

And he could be with her there. 

At least, until he joined her. 

Comoran had never been able to understand a love that deep, so consuming, so abiding. 

Until Robin. 

A love so strong that you’d do anything to stand beside to the person you loved. 

A love so beautiful that you’d give them anything they needed, just to see them smile. 

A love so true that you’d know they’d forgive you everything, and mean it. 

_ No grave can hold my body down _

_ I'll crawl home to her _

He swayed, listening to those words, and thought to himself that now that he knew how this woman felt in his arms, curled against him in their bed, the taste of her lips and the brush of her hands against his skin, there was no way he could bear to part with her. 

No way he’d ever be able to let her go. 

He’d been consumed by the love she’d shown him, given him, taught him. 

Nothing could stop his heart from needing her. 

Robin  _ was _ his home now. 

A part of him in a way no one else had ever been or could ever be. 

“Have I told you that I love you?” he asked, unable to stop the words from tumbling into her hair. 

“You have not,” she chuckled. 

“I love you.”

“I know you do.” Her fingers still stroking his chest, just over his heart. 

“How do you know?” he asked. 

“Hmmm,” she rubbed her cheek against his lapel. “Because you tell me in other ways. Quiet ways.”

“How long have we been doing this now?”

“This, meaning dancing or, this, meaning loving each other?” she teased. 

“Loving each other. How long have we been loving each other?” he squeezed her tighter, a gentle reproof for her teasing.

“I think I’ve loved you since Barrow, actually,” she pulled back slightly so she could see his face, her eyes meeting his with honesty and filled with love. “I started the slide then, and couldn’t seem to stop, even though I tried.”

“It was the same for me.”

She nodded, “I’d wondered.”

The music had changed, something more upbeat and loud. 

But he held her close and continued to sway with her.

“Do you,” he hesitated, swallowed, continued on, “think you’d like to get married again?”

“To you?” she blinked, nonplussed.

“Yes,” he couldn’t help the chuckle. “To me. Do you think you’d like to marry me? Try with me?” He laid his forehead against hers. “I love you, Ellacott. And I promised myself a long time ago I’d never say that to anyone else, unless I could picture the rest of my life with them.” He raised their joined hands to his mouth, kissed her fingers softly. 

“And I see it with you. So clearly.”

Her eyes were pooling, wet blue.

Her lips curved gently, trembling. 

“Marry me Ellacott. Please?”

“Okay,” she whispered. 

“Okay?” he whispered back, his voice catching in his throat.

“Yes,” she confirmed, then gave him a wicked grin. “How’s next Tuesday?”

“I’ll tell Pat to clear the books.”


End file.
